


Life, Love, and the Afterlife

by MartyMuses



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent AU, College, Fluff, Longing, M/M, Possession, Sexual Content, Skating, Supernatural (not the TV show), Victor is technically dead but does not die in this fic, Yuuri and Phichit in Detroit, bigbangonice2018, ghost au, victor is a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 17:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMuses/pseuds/MartyMuses
Summary: Victor Nikiforov is not Yuuri’s coach. Victor Nikiforov is not even alive. At the age of 18 Victor made the fateful decision to train in the US, rather than remain in Russia. After suffering a head injury during practice, he died hours later in his dorm room of an aneurysm. Years later, Yuuri, still inspired by Victor’s early career, follows his childhood idol into the same training program, and finds himself living in the same dorm room in which Victor died. Alone in a foreign country, uncertain about his future or his ability as a skater, Yuuri struggles with his training, and the weird things that keep happening around him. He starts to wonder if there’s something to the rumors that his dorm room is haunted. And if so, is it possible to connect with someone across the boundaries of life and death?





	1. Sensing

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! Welcome to my contribution to the Big Bang!!! on Ice 2018! This was the first big bang I ever participated in and I have to say that it was a little bit stressful (this is an understatement lol), even though I ended up being really happy with the final product and met some cool people along the way. 
> 
> When I told my friends my idea for this fic, the reaction was almost unanimously "Please don't write this -__-". But I showed them! I wrote it anyway, and then I made them beta it, and then they had to eat their words and say "Dammit. I liked it." In fact one of my friends was so angry that she liked it that it still makes her mad to this day. (Which secretly pleases me greatly. XD) 
> 
> I personally have a great interest in ghosts and the supernatural. My whole family has been into it since I was little, and I've personally experienced a lot of death of tragedy in my life. So writing this story really was a bit personal and resonated with me on some different levels. I hope you guys enjoy it, despite it's subject matter being somewhat off the beaten path.
> 
>   **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**  
> [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)  
> [@martymuses](https://twitter.com/martymuses)

“You know, this is _the_ room.”

Yuuri dropped his bag next to the bed. He blinked owlishly at Phichit, the boy who’d been tasked with helping him get settled.

“ _The_ room?” he asked, unsure he’d heard him correctly.

Phichit nodded, his blunt bangs bobbing against his forehead. “Yeah. You know... _the_ room. The room Victor Nikiforov died in.” His eyes narrowed a little bit. “You... do know what I’m talking about, right? You know who Victor Nikiforov was?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Of course. I was kind of a big fan. I mean... I guess I’m still a big fan.” He glanced around the barren dorm room. “This was his room? For real? For some reason I assumed they wouldn’t use it or something.”

Phichit snickered softly. “Yuuri, it was like almost ten years ago. They’re not going to just board up a perfectly good dorm room because somebody had a brain aneurysm in it. Even if that person was famous, and the room is now said to be haunted.”

Yuuri paused, looking at Phichit. His heart was beating a little faster than normal, and he wasn’t sure if it was because they were talking about Victor Nikiforov or because they were now talking about ghosts. “Why do they say that?”

“Well, cause that’s what you say about a place someone died, right? And I guess sometimes people have said weird stuff happens.”

The matter of fact way Phichit said it gave Yuuri pause, and for a moment he just stared at the other young skater. As the words sank in he was left with an odd feeling. Some strange mix of the creeps and being excited.  “I see.”

Phichit twisted his lips, looking at Yuuri who seemed a bit distracted now. “I’m sure we could talk to the housing people if you don't wanna be in this room. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I doubt it’s really haunted. But I could see how it would still be kind of weird.”

Yuuri’s eyes shifted away from Phichit, his gaze slowly moving around the barren dorm room, taking in the cheap, plain furniture, the blank walls, the worn floorboards. It was weird to think that almost a decade ago his skating idol had been in this very room. Slept here, talked with friends here, and then... died here. Weird, but also intriguing.

Yuuri took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t believe in ghosts. So I think it will be fine. Honestly, it’s kind of cool to get to share this room with him. He really inspired me to pursue my skating when I was young. I remember watching him win the GPF during his senior debut. I still love watching that routine.”

Phichit smiled. “Wow. I’d only just started skating back then.”

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well you’re a few years younger than I am. You can quit rubbing it in.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Phichit laughed. “Anyway, I’m sure the ghost thing is all just silly rumors. But,” his dark eyes grew wide and his face lit up with childish excitement, “if anything does happen, you have to let me know.”

Yuuri shook his head and chuckled. “Ok, I will. But don’t hold your breath.”

Phichit clapped his hands together. “Yay!” His eyes moved around the empty room, landing on Yuuri’s single bag. “Do you have any other luggage or anything that needs to be brought up?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No. Most of my things haven’t arrived yet.”

Phichit nodded. “Ok. Well. I’ll let you get settled, I guess. You wanna grab dinner at the dining hall tonight? I can show you around a bit more.”

Yuuri smiled and nodded, trying not to let his tiredness show too much. Afterall he’d just arrived after a 14 hour flight from Japan. “Sounds good.”

“Ok! I’ll text you!” Phichit said. For a moment he looked like he wanted to give Yuuri a hug, but then he turned around and headed back into the hallway. “My room’s just down the hall. It’s 309. Get me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, waving to him as Phichit walked away. He sighed in relief, shutting and locking the door behind him. Finally, he was alone.

Victor watched Yuuri from the desk, chin in hand. Technically he didn’t _need_ to sit on furniture, but it gave him a slightly grounded feeling. He’d emerged from the desk drawer where he liked to “sleep” when the two boys first came into the room. A new occupant was always a matter of interest for Victor, because to be completely honest, being dead was incredibly boring. The room’s occupants were the only entertainment he had.

Victor was delighted to discover that the newcomer not only knew about him, but was a fan of his now, so many years after his death. He’d listened to the boys talk, musing about his existence. That was always amusing. Though, to be fair, when he’d been alive he hadn’t really believed in ghosts either. Actually being a ghost had given him new perspective on the topic.

Now he was watching Yuuri pace back to his bag. He sat up, eager to watch him unpack. But Victor was disappointed when Yuuri sat down on the edge of the bed instead.

“That’s no fun,” he whined. “Unpack it! I’m curious.” Victor got up from the desk and walked over to the bed, crouching down by the duffle bag. He swatted at one of the handles. At first his hand just passed through the material, but after a few attempts he managed to move it ever so slightly. He looked up, eager to see if Yuuri had noticed.

But the young man wasn’t looking at his bag. He’d dropped his head into his hands, and Victor realized that he was crying.

It wasn’t as if he’d never seen anyone cry before. He’d seen people do all kinds of things alone in the room. Naughty things, sad things, downright strange things. If it got too weird or uncomfortable he could always just go back into the desk drawer.

But there was something especially heart wrenching about the sight of the young man now sitting on the empty bed in the utterly stark room, his hands pushed between his eyes and his glasses as he cried openly.

“Don’t cry,” he said. “Why are you crying?” He hovered next to Yuuri, leaning over to watch him intently. Yuuri sniffled, his shoulders shaking. He looked quite pitiful and Victor found that he wished he had a way to comfort him, though he’d never been very good with crying people. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe you’re home sick? It’s ok to be homesick.” He reached out to pat Yuuri’s back, but his hand passed through him instead.

Yuuri shivered, looking up suddenly. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, righting his glasses. He sniffled, looking around the room. For a brief moment he and Victor looked right at each other, though Victor knew Yuuri couldn’t see him.

It was the first really clear view of his face Victor had gotten. Tear streaked and a little red from crying, glasses slightly foggy, Victor couldn’t deny that he had a kind of awkward charm. “Hello, Yuuri.”

Yuuri scratched his head. He looked up at the ceiling, studying it for a moment like he was expecting to find something there. Then, with a final sniffle, he took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing his bag and dropping it on the bed. He scrubbed the remaining tears from his cheeks and then yanked the zipper open. The first thing he pulled out were his skates.

Victor perked up, clapping his hands together. “I knew you were a skater! Perfect.” He looked longingly at the skates, wishing he could reach out and touch them. “I miss skating.”

Victor turned his attention back to Yuuri’s face. He looked composed now, but somehow lonely as he unpacked the single bag of his possessions, laying his clothes neatly on the bed. Victor couldn’t help but wonder about him. Where was he from? How old was he? Why had he come here?

As he watched Yuuri unpack, Victor could feel himself growing fuzzy around the edges. It had been awhile since he’d made any effort to maintain his shape. It was tiring, though he didn’t know why ghosts should have to be tired. He was about to give up on trying to hold himself together when Yuuri pulled his cell phone out of his bag, tossing it onto the bed where Yuuri was sitting.

A tingling sensation went through Victor, and with a gasp of excitement he latched onto the energy trapped in the cell phone’s battery. His edges snapped smartly back into focus, and Victor felt more solid than he had in a long time. With some excitement he realized that his hands held faint traces of color as he held them out before his eyes.

Yuuri turned his head, blinking owlishly at Victor. Well, Victor knew he wasn’t blinking _at_ him, but he was definitely looking at where he was sitting.  Had he noticed him, sensed his presence as he siphoned off the battery’s power and became a little bit stronger?

After a moment Yuuri shook his head and looked away again, going back to his bag. Victor stood up, still marveling at his more solid than usual body, walking a few steps away from the bed.

Yuuri froze, his hand reaching into his bag. He could have sworn that he heard - very faintly - the sound of footsteps behind him.

He turned fully around, brows creased behind his glasses as he looked around the room. Of course there was no one there. It had probably just been someone in the hallway or in the dorm room above his. The buildings were old and sound probably carried through the walls.  

He’d barely been there fifteen minutes and already Yuuri could understand why people might say weird things happened in the room. There was just something a little unnerving in the air. Even though he was sure it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone somehow.

He thought about what Phichit had said about the room being haunted, and that the spirit of Victor Nikiforov could be watching him at that very moment. It was a weird feeling, but oddly one that he took some vague kind of comfort in. It was that same kind of comfort children take from having imaginary friends, a false sense of companionship. If the thought of his childhood idol could assuage some of his doubt and loneliness, why not just indulge in it?

There was a knock at the door, and Yuuri jumped, his heart suddenly hammering up in his throat. He sighed in exasperation, chastising himself for getting spooked. He was being ridiculous. There were no ghosts. He was just tired and anxious and emotional.

Yuuri smiled faintly to see Phichit’s round, smiling face looking back at him when he opened the door.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you, but I thought you might want some sheets and stuff.” He held up his arms, in which he was carrying a set of folded sheets and a worn comforter. “Since your stuff hasn’t arrived yet and I assume you’re probably not carrying around bedding in your duffel bag.”

“Oh,” Yuuri smiled genuinely, touched by Phichit’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you. I was planning to do some shopping for basics tonight, but honestly I’m so tired now I wasn’t really looking forward to going out.”

“It’s no problem. I can go with you tomorrow maybe? Show you the bus route and stuff, or we could just get an Uber,” Phichit said as he carried the bedding past Yuuri.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, “that’d be great.”

“When do you start practice?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri started moving his things off the bed so they could make it up. “Monday.”

“With Celestino, right?”

“Mmhm.” Yuuri nodded, picking up his cell phone to move it out of the way.

“He’s my coach, too. He’s great. I think you’ll really like working with him.”

“Well, he’s one of the reason I came all the way here, so. Hopefully you’re right,” Yuuri said, a bit distracted as he tapped the screen of his phone. Nothing happened. Yuuri frowned, tapping it again and then pressing the power button. The “no battery” icon flared momentarily on the screen and then faded out, as if even that was too much effort.

“What the heck?” he muttered under his breath.

“Hm?” Phichit looked up from unfolding the sheets.

Yuuri glanced at him. “Ah... nothing, really,” he held up his phone. “It’s just my phone’s dead.”

“Was it charged when you got off the plane?”

Yuuri furrowed his brows. “I thought so. I had it plugged in during the flight.”

“Weird. Maybe the outlet wasn’t working or something.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Yuuri was still puzzled, but there wasn’t really any accounting for technology. He set his phone on the desk and then helped Phichit move the rest of his things off the bed so they could make it up.

Victor studied the cell phone, which now lay next to him on the desk. He felt a little guilty about draining off all of its battery power, but only a little bit. Yuuri could charge it up again, and it wasn’t like he’d done any permanent damage. And besides it had done him a lot of good. He needed the energy a lot more than Yuuri’s cell phone. Not only was he now easily holding his shape and showing signs of color, but he’d made _sounds_ when he walked across the floor. It made him practically giddy with excitement.

For having been a ghost for quite some time, Victor still didn’t know a whole lot about _being_ a ghost.

He knew that he needed energy to do anything interesting like be more than a formless ball of vague consciousness, or interact with the living world in any way. He knew he could get it from electronics. Batteries were easiest, but he could also use the energy currents that slowly leaked from outlets and power cords. Living people were also constantly leaking their own ambient energy that he seemed to absorb passively, which was probably why he was always more active when the room was occupied.

Victor suspected that he could probably get energy from living people in a less passive way if he wanted to. But he also had an instinctive sense that this wasn’t something he should do.

He also knew he couldn’t leave the room. He’d tried numerous times. Through the door, through the windows, up the air vents, throughs the walls. But always, once he’d gone too far, he’d simply dissipate. And when he coalesced again it was always back in the room. Victor couldn’t imagine what was holding him there. That’s how it worked with ghosts, wasn’t it? They existed because they had unfinished business or some kind of task to complete, right?

But he couldn’t think - or possibly couldn’t remember - what it was he was supposed to do.

Growing bored, Victor reached out to touch the phone. His finger passed through it, but he felt a kind of connectivity. Curious, he tried to feed some of the power he’d stolen from it back through the connection. The screen lit up after a few moments.

Delighted, Victor looked up, wondering if Yuuri had noticed. But he wasn’t paying any attention. He was finishing making the bed with Phichit, and neither of them were looking in his direction. Victor pouted and withdrew his finger. The screen went dark again.

“Thanks again, Phichit.”

“Of course. Can’t have you sleeping on a bare mattress, that’s just... so sad.”

Yuuri smiled wryly. “I would have made do. Though having a real bed has made me feel that much more tired.”

“Well, you had a long trip,” Phichit said, solemnly nodding his head. “I’ll let you get some rest and see you for dinner.”

“Yeah. I’m probably gonna take a nap, so if I don’t answer your text, just come get me. For all I know  my phone will still be dead.” He saw Phichit out and locked the door again with another sigh.

Victor watched Yuuri intently, waiting for him to turn back around towards the desk. As soon as he did he put his finger back through the cell phone.

The screen lit up again.

This time Yuuri noticed. He glanced at the phone and frowned, walking over to pick it up. But as soon as he did it lost contact with Victor’s finger and went dark again.

Yuuri huffed. “What is wrong with this thing?” He tapped at the screen and pressed the power button, but nothing happened. With a sigh he set it back down on the desk. Victor pushed his finger through it again, letting it siphon off another flicker of power.

The screen blinked back on. Yuuri stared at it a moment and then picked it up again. The screen went out.

“Of for-” Yuuri grumbled as he shook the phone and tried the power button again. After a moment he went back to his bag, fishing out the charging cord. He plugged it in, leaving the phone on the bedside table to charge before he flopped down onto the bed.

He lay there for a moment and then rubbed his hands over his face, pushing off his glasses, which he let fall onto the bed next to him. “What am I doing here?” he mumbled into his hands and then rolled onto his side, pushing under the blankets.

Victor waited a few moments and then walked to the bedside, looking down at Yuuri. Even though he wasn’t crying again he still had a sad, almost lost expression on his face, even with his eyes closed.

Victor could empathize.

He wished again there was some way he could comfort Yuuri. And while he thought that he probably _could_ touch him if he really wanted to, he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea. Most people didn’t really like the idea of ghosts, which was probably the reason the room never stayed occupied for very long.

So instead he crawled onto the bed, stretching himself out in the space between Yuuri and the wall. Maybe Yuuri would sense his presence and not feel so alone. Or maybe he would feel like he was creepily being spied on by a dead person. Either way it felt nice to be close to someone, even if he couldn’t be touched, seen, or heard by him.  

As he lay there, imagining the feel of the bedding, Victor studied Yuuri’s face once more. In sleep it seemed very soft and sweet, even though his eyebrows were pinched together a little. The more he looked at him the more he thought he was quite beautiful, and even though he couldn’t actually feel it he imagined the gentle warmth that must be radiating from Yuuri’s living body.

Victor wondered what kind of skater Yuuri was and lamented that he’d probably never know. At best he might get to see him practice some movement in the room, or hear the music he planned to perform to. Victor thought he’d like that, and he hoped Yuuri wouldn’t leave too quickly.

* * *

 

“I think there’s something wrong with my cell phone,” Yuuri said, looking up from his plate. The dining hall wasn’t particularly busy. It was the summer semester, after all, and most students were off on break. Only a skeleton crew stuck around for summer research or, like he and Phichit, to train in the athletics department.

“Is it still not charging?” Phichit asked, looking up from his own phone.

Yuuri shrugged. “It charged a bit after I plugged it in, but it still seemed really low when you came to get me for dinner. I left it charging. And earlier the screen started flickering on and off by itself even when the battery was supposed to be dead.” He twisted his lips. “Something must be wrong with it.”

Phichit looked at Yuuri for a moment and then leaned in across the table conspiratorially. “You know,” he said, dropping his voice almost comically low given that there was no one else around them in the dining hall. “Supposedly ghosts are able to mess with electronics. On those ghost hunt shows the equipment batteries get drained _all_ the time.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “What... are you talking about?”

“Ghost hunting shows.” Phichit nodded decisively. “They’re like a thing in the U.S.”  

“How do you hunt a ghost? First of all they aren’t real. And second of all if they are real you can’t see them.”

“With electronic equipment! They have all kinds of gadgets. Night vision cameras, infrared cameras, EVP recorders, voice boxes, motion detecting laser arrays, EMF detectors...”  

“Which the ghosts can turn off by draining the batteries?” Yuuri interrupted.

“Yeah. Sometimes.” Phichit nodded.  

Yuuri chuckled. “While that sounds entertaining, I think it’s more likely there’s something wrong with my phone.”

“Probably, but you never know.” Phichit sounded hopeful.

Yuuri considered that, trying to imagine the ghost of Victor Nikiforov messing with his phone. It was a ridiculous thought, but  also kind of amusing just how much Phichit apparently knew about the subject. “You watch those shows, don’t you?” Yuuri grinned ruefully.

“Absolutely! You should watch one with me! Oooh! Then we could do an investigation in your room and see if it really is haunted by the ghost of Victor Nikiforov.” Phichit’s eyes were huge with excitement.

Yuuri smirked. “I think that if there _is_ a ghost in my room we should leave it alone. I’d rather not bother it and find myself on its bad side.”

“But, Yuuri, if it is Victor he could totally give us amazing skating advice. How cool would that be?”

Yuuri furrowed his brows and then couldn’t stop himself from giggling. “Phichit, you sound ridiculous.”

“Awww, you’re no fun.” Phichit sat back, pouting a little, but quickly recovered his smile. “But you should totally watch a show with me. Even if it’s hoaky, it’s fun and they all take themselves _really_ seriously. A lot of it is pretty hilarious actually.”

“Ok, I’ll think about it,” Yuuri said with a chuckle. He’d never really been interested in supernatural stuff, even though Japanese culture could be pretty superstitious when it came to spirits and things. As far as he was concerned that was all just tradition and ceremony. It wasn’t related to reality.  

Though, the thought of getting skating advice from his dead idol was kind of cool. He was devastated - like much of the skating world - when Victor died so suddenly and unexpectedly. He’d only been 19, and his career was just starting to really peak. Yuuri had watched every performance and interview and read every article he could. He’d wanted to be just like Victor and one day he’d wanted to skate on the same ice as him. To be his peer. Someone who could face him not just as a fan, but as a competitor, a fellow skater, an equal.

Knowing he’d never get that chance had almost made him want to quit skating. But thinking about stopping when he was still alive and _could_ continue when Victor couldn’t seemed like a betrayal to his idol. He was glad now that he’d stuck with it, even if sometimes he felt like he’d never be able to live up to his dreams.

His thoughts starting to grow gloomy, Yuuri changed the subject. He asked Phichit about their shared coach, what he should expect from practice, the kinds of routines Celestino liked, and the skating program in general. This was the first time he’d been part of a large, collegiate program. He knew it wasn’t going to be anything like practicing on his own time back at home.

After dinner Phichit took Yuuri on a quick tour of the main campus. It was a pleasant summer evening, and even though he was still tired, Yuuri was glad to stretch his legs. It was just starting to grow into twilight as they headed back to the dorm building that was kept open for the summer students.

“Thanks so much for showing me around, Phichit,” Yuuri said as they walked up the stairs to the third floor.

“No problem! I’m really excited that you’re here. Us Asian skaters gotta stick together.” He held up his hand for a fist bump.

Yuuri looked a Phichit’s fist for a moment and then a little awkwardly drew his hand out of his pocket and bumped it. “Do you like it here?” he asked.

Phichit nodded. “Yeah, I do. The program’s great, Celestino’s great, but someday I really want to be able to make my home rink back in Thailand. Figure skating’s not really popular there, and I want everyone to see how fun it is. I want to inspire more skaters from Southeast Asia.”

Yuuri smiled warmly, feeling a little embarrassed for himself. “That’s really... mature. I feel kind of bad being older and not having that kind of goal or drive. I mean, when I skate of course I want to make Japan look good, but I really do it for selfish reasons. Or maybe it’s more like I do it because I don’t know what else to do. Skating’s kind of the only thing I’m even marginally good at.”

Phichit frowned a little bit as they walked down the hallway towards their rooms. “Yuuri, you’re not ‘marginally good.’ You’re one of Japan’s top male skaters. Everyone is super excited that you’re here. Especially Coach Celestino.”  

Yuuri flushed a little, taken aback by Phichit’s open and honest manner. He paused at his door. “Thanks, Phichit. That... means a lot. And thanks for all your help today. I’m really in your debt.”

“Of course,” Phichit smiled openly and then reached for Yuuri’s hand, squeezing it. “I really want us to be friends. So... please rely on me.”

Yuuri blink, now embarrassed. “O-ok. I’ll try. Thanks.”

Phichit giggled and released Yuuri’s hand. “Ok, well have a good night! I’ll text you tomorrow about shopping.”

Yuuri nodded. “Thanks. Goodnight.”

He waved to Phichit and then unlocked his door, stepping inside with a sigh of relief to be alone and able to relax again. But almost as soon as he’d shut the door he froze. Quiet music was playing, filling the room with an eerie lack of stillness. As he could move, Yuuri flicked on the light. It only did so much to dispel the unsettling feeling.  

Yuuri walked immediately to his phone. It was on, the screen lit up, music playing from its tiny speakers. He picked it up gingerly, stared at it for a moment, then tapped the screen to turn the music off. He held the quiet phone for a few seconds before putting it back down on the nightstand.

Even though it was silent now, he couldn’t shake the weird feeling. That feeling like he wasn’t alone or like someone was watching him. He turned around slowly, looking around the small room. There was no one there, yet his heart was pounding and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

“What the hell is going on?”


	2. Contact

Yuuri’s first week in the program was hectic and hard. He spent most of his time training both on and off the ice. During the first part of the off season, when he was finalizing his plans and getting ready to move to the States, he’d regrettably let himself fall a bit out of shape. A fact he was ruing as Celestino and the program’s trainer put him through intense cardio on top of skating practice.

It left him exhausted at the end of every day. He had no idea how he was going to keep this up on top of academics come the fall. But at least being exhausted left him little time to worry or even think about his possibly haunted dorm room. His phone was still acting strange; the screen flickering now and then. A few times it had woken him up in the middle of the night with sudden music. The really weird thing was that it was never the song he was last listening to.

In the evenings when Yuuri returned to the room Victor would watch him go about his evening routine. He’d watch him change after practice, looking at his blossoming bruises in the mirror. He’d sit next to him on the bed as he tended to his feet. He’d watch him stretching, sometimes dancing, going through the motions of his routines. Sometimes he would watch videos of other skaters on his laptop, studying their choreography and movements. Victor enjoyed watching with him. It had been so long since he’d gotten to watch skating.

But what he liked the most was when Yuuri started watching videos of _him._ Not so much because he liked to watch himself skate - that actually gave him a kind of melancholy feeling, remembering what it was like to be alive - but more because of how rapt Yuuri became when he watched him. It was obvious he’d watched all of his routines many times before. But he watched them with a different kind of attention than when he was studying the other skaters. He had a different kind of look on his face. It made Victor want to reach out and draw those eyes to him.

But of course that was impossible.

The more Victor watched Yuuri the more endearing he became. The more Victor noticed his beauty, his hard work, his dedication, and also that persistent loneliness. He was even funny and goofy sometimes, listening to music and dancing around the room, singing off key in a language Victor didn’t understand. Somehow he knew this was a side of him nobody else saw, and that made him happy.  

That weekend Yuuri’s belongings finally arrived and Victor watched as the barren room slowly became Yuuri’s room. He inspected each picture of his family. Each poster of a famous skater - a few of which were of him. Each book and knick knack that went on his shelves. With all of Yuuri’s things - and Yuuri himself - the room was starting to feel significantly less lonely.

Once his room was set up Yuuri spent most of the remaining weekend sleeping or on his phone, lazing in his sweats. Victor loved to peer over his shoulder, watching him play games or watch videos, scroll through endless pictures, and - most intriguing - send messages to people. It gave Victor the spark of an idea that was almost too exciting to think about for too long.

But, as it always does, the weekend passed quickly, and Monday started badly. Yuuri overslept and was in such a hurry to make it to practice he didn’t take his phone. Already irritated and anxious and not having eaten breakfast, practice predictably went poorly. He didn’t land a single jump, and at one point fell so spectacularly that he slid across the ice and into the rink wall where he lay for several long moments, trying to collect himself.

After that he was ordered off the ice.

“Yuuri, if you can’t focus you shouldn’t be on the rink. You’re going to hurt yourself or someone else,” Celestino admonished. “Is something wrong?”

Yuuri shook his head as he limped over to a bench, easing himself down. He could feel the giant bruise on his left side spreading. “No. My head’s just not on right today.”

“Well then take the rest of the day and get it on right.”

“Yes, coach. I’m sorry,” he responded, trying not to sound too miserable.

Celestino smiled placatingly. “I’m not angry, you don’t have to sound so down about it. Just make sure you take care of yourself. Everyone has an off day. Do you need to go see the nurse? Did you hit your head?”

Yuuri shook his head, looking up. “No, I’m alright.”

“Yuuri! Are you ok?” Phichit skated over, leaning over the side of the rink. “That looked like it hurt.”

Yuuri smiled wryly. “It did. I’m gonna take a break.”

“Oh. Ok! I’ll see you for dinner?”

“Yeah. Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of practice,” he smiled wanly at his friend, already beating himself up in his head. Why had he rushed into practice when he knew his head wasn’t in it? He knew better than that. And he knew better than to skip meals. Who was he trying to impress? Trying to make up for half an hour of oversleeping had cost him his whole afternoon practice, and he had no one to blame but himself.

It was with these thoughts that he returned to his dorm room.

“Yuuri! You’re back early!” Victor exclaimed, moving away from the bedside table and Yuuri’s phone.  Even though he knew Yuuri couldn’t see him he still felt guilty. Like he was a kid caught playing with something he shouldn’t. He was startled further when the door shut with a slam as Yuuri kicked it. “Oh.”

Yuuri stood by the door for a moment, fists clenched as he berated himself. He fought to hold back his tears, but after a few moments they escaped with a soft, shuddering sob. He felt so out of his element. Why had he come halfway around the world to pursue a dream he had no confidence he could ever achieve? Who was he trying to fool? He was just wasting everyone’s time. His own. His coach’s. His parents’. Even his country’s. They were all putting their hope in him.

He dropped his practice bag at the door and angrily toed out of his shoes before crossing the floor to his bed. He hissed as he sat down, the bruise on his outer thigh and butt protesting the pressure. Pulling off his glasses he buried his face in his hands again.

Victor floated closer, settling down on the bed next to Yuuri. He watched him with a soft, anxious gaze. “What happened? Did you fight with your coach? Did you have a bad fall?” He hesitated for a moment and then reached out as if to brush a tear from Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri jerked, inhaling sharply as he sat up. There was that weird, unsettling, drafty feeling again. He wiped at his face and took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t be wallowing in self pity. He needed to clear his head and stop being so weak.

He reached for his phone, tapping the screen to turn it on. Yuuri blinked as he looked at his text notifications.

 **Unknown Sender:** _Hello Yuuri._

The message made that weird, unsettled feeling rise up his spine. Licking his lips, though he didn’t know why he should be nervous, he tapped the message, opening it fully. He was looking for the number it was from, trying to get some clue as to who sent it. But there was no number. Just “Unknown Sender.”

He was considering replying to ask who the sender was, when suddenly his phone started blaring music.

Yuuri gasped, dropping the phone. It went skittering across the old, waxed, hardwood floor and right under his desk.

Pressing his hand to his heart he gasped. “What the hell _?!_ ”

For a few moments Yuuri just stared at his phone, still playing music from under his desk. Then he stood with a huff and marched over to it, yanking his desk chair back so he could get down on all fours and go after it. It was while he was down there that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, a glint of something catching the light of his phone screen. Yuuri furrowed his brows and crawled a little further under the desk.

Victor stiffened a little, sitting up straight on the bed.

Yuuri held up his phone, shining the light of the screen on the floor, moving it back and forth until he saw the glint again. There was something in a crack between the floor and the wall where the wood had warped over time and pulled away. Curious, Yuuri fished after it.

“Yuuri, wait,” Victor whispered. He wanted to stop him, but he couldn’t move. There was something there. Something important. Something private. Something he’d forgotten about.

Yuuri’s fingers closed around the object and he pulled it out, holding it in the palm of his hand in the light of his phone screen. It was a simple gold ring.

Yuuri blinked at it, surprised to find something other than loose change. It looked valuable even if it was a little tarnished. He wondered how long it had been there. He crawled back out from under the desk, curling his fingers around the ring so as not to drop it. It felt oddly warm against his palm.

He went back to the bed, turning on his bedside lamp so that he could examine the ring more closely. He turned it this way and that in the light and noticed there was an engraving on the inside. He squinted to make it out, but realized it wasn’t written in English. It looked... Russian?

Yuuri frowned a little. His knowledge of the cyrillic alphabet was more or less nonexistent, but as he held the ring in the light and turned it slowly he realized that he absolutely knew what these foreign letters spelled. Any Victor Nikiforov fan worth his salt would recognize the skater’s name written in his mother tongue. His heart started beating fast.

Had this ring belonged to _the_ Victor Nikiforov? Or had some fan left it here, hidden in the crack by the wall as a kind of memorial offering?

“Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri murmured as his eyes moved over the engraving again.

Victor lifted his eyes from the ring. “Yes, Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s head snapped up. And for a brief, heartstopping moment they were _looking_ at each other.

With a gasp, Yuuri jerked his head back, blinking. He could have sworn he just heard someone say his name, and that, for a split second he’d seen... something. No. _Someone_ sitting right across from him. His heart was pounding. For a few moments he just stared into space, panting softly. His eyes were obviously playing tricks on him. He was tired and it had been a stressful, weird day already.

Yuuri looked at the ring in his hand again. He had to know if it had belonged to Victor. He scooted back against his pillows, and then his thumbs started moving quickly over his phone screen as he typed Victor’s name into Google. He wanted to look at pictures of him, to see if he was ever wearing a ring like this. He couldn’t remember seeing it, but then he’d never really looked for it either. His finger hovered over the search button for a moment, shaking a little before he tapped it lightly and waited.

His eyes scanned the results, a smattering of images lined up at the top and then several links to pages. He couldn’t help but read the headline of the first link. “ _Russian figure skating prodigy, Victor Nikiforov, dies during training at American university_ . _”_

This university. This training program. This room. Yuuri’s hand closed around the ring as it all settled in on him. The fact that Victor had chosen this program for his collegiate training was one of the main reasons he’d also come there. Coach Celestino was a big draw, but the _real_ draw for him had always been to study in the program Victor had chosen for himself.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri tapped the article link. He’d read all of the accounts before, but he remembered that some of the articles included pictures of Victor from shortly before his passing. His eyes scanned the article even as he scrolled, looking for a photograph.  

_Nikiforov was found in a dorm room at an American university where he was enrolled in their skating program. The cause of death was initially unknown, but is now believed to be a brain hemorrhage related to an accident during practice. A top contender for the next World Figure Skating Championships and pegged as a likely Russian Olympic pick, Nikiforov’s unexpected death comes as a shock to his fans and the skating community._

_His decision to train in America came as a surprise to many Russian and international fans, given the caliber of training and the number of programs available in his home country. Nikiforov had explained the decision by saying he wanted to promote goodwill between Russia and outside countries, and to experience a different kind of skating environment. Some fans and other members of the Russian skating community have blamed the American university for being lax in their safety. They claim his coach and trainers did not recognize the severity of injuries Nikiforov sustained in a fall during practice, which are believed to have led to a sudden brain aneurysm some hours later._

The story was as sad and pointless now as it had been the first time he read it. He’d also been surprised by Victor’s decision to train outside of Russia. It was extremely rare. But then again, Victor had always loved to surprise people. It was what he built his career on. The decision was probably based as much on that as anything. Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Victor had stayed in Russia. Would he still be alive right now if he’d never taken that fall?

Yuuri sighed heavily. His thoughts were distracting him from the task at hand. He forced himself to look away from the article and keep scrolling for photographs. There were a couple towards the end. The first was one of Victor at a competition. Yuuri squinted, trying to make out if he was wearing a ring, but the picture wasn’t large or clear enough for that kind of detail. The second was of him with some other skaters from the university’s skating program. It was one of the few official pictures of him with short hair. He’d cut it just after his last season. Just before he’d gone to train in the U.S. In this picture he was waving at the camera.

And there it was. A simple gold band around his finger.

Yuuri blinked, looking at the ring. So this _was_ Victor’s ring. He was holding something of Victor’s right now in his hand! His fingers tightened around it. Victor must have lost it when he was staying there, right around the time that he died. The thought made him intensely, almost indescribably sad.  

Victor Nikiforov had died in his dorm room. And if that was true, what if the other part - the haunted part - was also true?  

Yuuri held the ring up and looked at it again. His other hand absently covered the back of his neck. It felt a little like someone was blowing on it. He bit his bottom lip and then set the ring aside, leaning back fully against his pillows as he began to type in new searches on his phone.  

_Haunting. Paranormal. Ghosts._

Apparently the internet was obsessed with ghosts. He found more articles, blogs, and hoaky websites about haunted places and ghost hunting and mediums than he could ever possibly go through. He tried to scan them, picking out a few that looked like they might hold interesting information. And then he started reading in earnest. He learned about different types of hauntings, the difference between ghosts and other paranormal “entities,” cold spots, electronic manipulation, disembodied voices, electromagnetic waves, and a bunch of other stuff that sounded kind of like mumbo jumbo. Yet also kind of matched up with some of the things he’d experienced over the past week.   

The knock at the door startled Yuuri out of his obsessive internet scouring. He blinked and looked towards the door. The knock came again, this time followed by Phichit’s voice.

“Yuuri? Are you in there? Are you ok?”

Yuuri felt like he was waking up from a dream. He took a deep breath and got up stiffly, setting his phone aside before answering the door.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Phichit was looking at him with a worried crease between his brows. “Are you sure? You look kind of... dazed. Did I wake you up?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No. I was just... reading. Some things.”

Phichit nodded slowly. “Ok. Well, you seemed to be having kind of a bad day. I just wanted to check on you since Celestino made you quit practice early. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Yuuri frowned a little bit. If Phichit was coming to check on him after practice, then... “What time is it?” Yuuri asked.

Phichit raised his eyebrows. “It’s just after five. Are you sure you’re ok?”

Yuuri had only spent a few hours in practice that morning. Granted he’d been late, but even so, if it was already five then he’d spent the entire afternoon lost in the weird internet world of paranormal investigation. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not he should tell Phichit about the ring and what he’d learned. Though he had promised Phichit he’d tell him if anything happened, he didn’t really want to fuel Phichit’s ghost mania. He also had to admit there was some part of him that selfishly wanted to keep what he’d discovered, and Victor Nikiforov, to himself.

Yuuri thought about the footsteps, his cellphone, the weird text message, the voice he thought he’d heard. Maybe... there _was_ something otherworldly going on. Or maybe he was just going through a lot and the seed Phichit had planted that very first day he arrived was growing wild. Afterall things like ghosts weren’t real.

Were they?

“Yuuri?” Phichit’s voice sounded more worried now as he waved a hand in front of Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri took a deep breath and blinked a couple times, coming out of his thoughts. “Sorry. I was just... I think I’m just really tired. I’ve had a hard time adjusting to the timezone and all the stress on my body. Celestino’s a lot harder on us physically than my last coach.”

Phichit seemed to relax a bit at that and he smile in commiseration. “Yeah, he can be a bit of a slave driver. But he really has what’s best for everyone at heart. It’s off season so he knows we have to work extra hard to stay motivated. Once the season starts and school’s back in session he’ll let up a bit.”

Yuuri smiled faintly. “Well, that’s good to know. I was wondering how I was ever going to be able to do this _and_ classes.”

“It’ll be fine! I survived my freshman year afterall.” Phichit grinned. “So. You up for dinner tonight?”

Yuuri took a deep breath and smiled a bit more. He was actually really glad Phichit showed up when he did. He already felt a bit more grounded after his obsessive internet search. “Yeah, sounds good. I’m gonna take a shower and then we can head to the dining hall.”

“Ok. Text me when you’re ready.”

Yuuri nodded and they waved to one another down the hallway before he retreated back into his room. There was an odd, slightly oppressive, feeling hanging in the air. It was unsettling and made him feel... sad. But somehow it also felt warm, insulating. It made him feel like he just wanted to crawl back into bed and bury himself in blankets.

He thought about everything he’d learned, about all of the weird experiences he’d been having. Was it possible that it really was somehow related to Victor Nikiforov’s death? _Could_ his room be haunted? It sounded crazy. Really crazy. Still...

Yuuri walked back over to his bed, trying to shake his thoughts and the heavy feeling around him. When he reached for his phone he paused. There was another message.

 **Unknown Sender:** _Hello Yuuri._    

A shiver went up his spine. Swallowing, Yuuri picked up the phone. This time he sent a reply.

 **Yuuri:** _Who is this?_

He stared at the screen for a long moment, halfway expecting an immediate response. But nothing happened. Shaking his head he sighed, chastising himself for getting carried away, as he tossed the phone back on the bed. He stood there for a moment, feeling uncomfortable, and then his eyes drifted back to the ring sitting on his bedside table. He studied it for a few moments and, feeling an odd compulsion to do so, he picked it up, holding it between his fingers.

He turned it this way and that, letting it catch the light and then slipped it on his finger.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but he sort of half expected _something_ to happen. But nothing changed. The gold ring on his hand looked a little uncomfortably like a wedding band. Nowhere in any of the articles had it mentioned that Victor had a spouse or a fiance. So why did he wear this ring? Why was it engraved with his name and who had given it to him?

The longer he looked at the ring the more Yuuri began to feel a deep, aching sadness mingled with something like longing. Yet he was somehow detached from it, like it they weren’t entirely his own feelings. It wasn’t until he felt a tear sliding down his cheek that he came back to his senses. Taking a deep breath he hastily wiped the tear away and pulled the ring back off his finger. He almost dropped it as he fumblingly put it back on the bedside table and took a step back.

Victor watched Yuuri gather up his shower stuff in a bit of a hurry. He wasn’t sure what had happened when Yuuri put on the ring, but he’d felt an odd sensation, like some part of him was flowing into him. He hadn’t tried to stop it. It was the first thing that felt like anything in a long time.

When Yuuri left for the shower room, Victor stood, looking at the ring. He reached out to touch it, finding that he could do so relatively easily. He slid it off the table, watching it bounce on the floorboards, roll a short ways and land in a patch of sunlight from the window. Then he went back to Yuuri’s bed and touched his cell phone.

 **Yuuri:** _Who is this?_  

Victor studied the screen, debating what to do. He’d figured out how to send Yuuri messages, but he wondered if he _should._ Maybe it would be better if he just left him alone. He was obviously struggling already.

But he was so lonely. And so too, he thought, was Yuuri. What if they could somehow alleviate each others’ loneliness? He’d wanted so many times to comfort and encourage Yuuri. What if he actually could?

When Yuuri returned from the shower he felt a bit more at ease. The hot water and soap had done its job of not only cleansing his body, but also helping him clear his mind. He’d obviously gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that day, and let his emotions and anxiety get the better of him. He’d gotten carried away with researching ghosts and spirits, and projected his own already tumultuous emotions onto that past tragedy. It was really sad and, truthfully, a bit creepy to know that someone like that, someone who had talent and promise and a bright future - someone he’d looked up as a young skater - had died in the room he was now staying in. Even more so that he was now in possession of his ring.   

But that’s all it was. A sad story from the past. There was nothing supernatural about any of it. He was tired and emotional and was letting his mind get the better of him. That’s all any of this was. He’d take a run after dinner and that would  get out some of his nervous energy.

That’s what he was telling himself as he looked in the long mirror on the back of his door, toweling his damp hair and inspecting his face for signs of developing blemishes. He squinted narrowly at his own face, leaning in close since he didn’t have his glasses on. When he leaned back and looked up his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

The faded image of a young man was staring at him in the mirror. For a long, pregnant moment they just looked at each other.

Then the image moved, like he was reaching towards him. Yuuri jerked around. His pulse raced as adrenaline flooded his body.

There was no one there.

He looked back at the mirror, eyes wide. Only his own reflection greeted him. He looked back over his shoulder again. The room was still, the only thing moving a few lazy dust motes, which he could see in the reflection of the mirror. Hesitantly he touched the glass where the image had been, but there was nothing there. He took a few deeper breaths and rubbed his eyes.

They must have been playing tricks on him without his glasses on. Shaking his head he turned away from the mirror and walked towards the bureau to get changed.

“Ah!” Yuuri jerked as he felt something dig into the underside of his foot. Looking down at the floor he stiffened, squinting to make sure he was seeing properly. The gold ring was lying in the middle of the floor. All of the hairs on the back of his neck stood up at once.

He blinked and picked it up gingerly, glancing towards the bedside table several feet away. He knew that’s where he’d left it. So how had it ended up in the middle of the room for him to step on? Swallowing he took it back to the side table and gently set it down.

His phone screen lit up. Seeing it innocuously illuminated in the middle of his bed gave him the most unsettling feeling. Before he could stop himself he reached over to pick it up.

He had a new message notification, and what it said made all of the rational pep talking he’d given himself in the shower go straight down the drain like so much hot water.

 **Unknown Sender:** _It’s_ _Victor. Please don’t be sad._


	3. Connection

“Yuuri? Are you  _ really _ sure you’re ok?” Phichit asked for what was probably the fourth of fifth time since they’d gone to dinner.  

Yuuri, who’d been staring out the window, pulled his gaze back to Phichit. He had no idea what to tell him. They’d only known each other for a little over a week and he was the closest thing to a friend that Yuuri had at the moment. He didn’t want Phichit to think he was absolutely crazy, but at the same time, Phichit was the one who had started the haunted room talk in the first place. He was the one who watched ghost hunting shows. Surely he would believe him... right? 

But behind his rationalizations remained the clinging feeling like maybe he didn’t  _ want _ to tell Phichit. Maybe he really just wanted to keep this whole weird thing for himself. 

Yuuri chewed the inside of his lip, debating. Then he took a deep breath and leaned forward on his arms. “What if I told you that I think you might have been right about my room?” 

Phichit’s dark eyebrows raised. “Right about... what exactly?” 

Yuuri cleared his throat. “About what you said when we first got here.” 

Phichit’s eyes slowly widened. “About it being haunted?” he stage whispered. 

Yuuri’s face scrunched. Hearing the word out loud made him think he was going crazy again, but after a moment he nodded. “Yeah. That.” 

Phichit lit up. “Oh my God! What happened? Tell me!” 

“Nothing major,” he said quickly, and then considered that receiving a text message from beyond the grave was probably considered “major.” He had no  _ proof _ that it actually was from Victor Nikiforov, but what other explanation was there? That somebody had been spying on him and was playing a very elaborate practical joke? That that same person had remote control over his phone and was now trolling him via text message? 

Did that make less sense or more sense than believing there was a ghost in his room? 

Honestly he didn’t know anymore. 

Yuuri took a deep breath. “It’s just. It’s been a lot of little weird things. Like... feeling like I’m not alone sometimes or like someone is watching me. And then there’s the thing with my phone losing charge and turning on and off and playing music for no reason. I mean it still might just be malfunctioning, but... I don’t know. Sometimes I think I hear things and even feel and see things.” 

Phichit’s eyes were the size of dinner plates and he was practically crawling over the table in his eagerness to hear more. “Like what kind of things?” 

Yuuri swallowed. “Like... footsteps, which could totally just be from another room, I know, but it doesn’t sound like it. And I sometimes I feel this like... draft. Like cold air coming in from somewhere, but there are no vents. And today...” He took another deep breath. “This sounds crazy, but I swear, Phichit, I thought I heard someone say my name and then I saw something on my bed and then later again in my mirror.” 

Phichit just stared at him with a look of longing on his face. “You’re so lucky. You’re room is totally haunted. I’m so jealous.” 

Yuuri puffed out his cheeks. He hadn’t even told him about the ring yet. “I think you might be right.” For a long moment they just stared at each other. And then Yuuri hedged, “So... you’re kind of into this whole... supernatural thing.” 

Phichit nodded. “Yeah. I mean... it’s fascinating, isn’t it? Spirits and ghosts and all that.” 

“And you watch TV shows and stuff about it, right? So you kind of know... some things?” 

Phichit shrugged. “I guess. Yeah.” 

“So... have you ever heard about a ghost haunting, like, not a place or a person, but a thing? Like an object or something they owned maybe?” 

Phichit sat back with a decisive nod. “Oh, totally. That happens  _ all _ the time. Some of the most haunted places are museums, because they have so much old stuff stored away in their collections,” he said with an air of authority. He raised one of his eyebrows again. “Why?” 

“No real reason,” Yuuri said, also sitting back. 

Phichit’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Yuuri over the table. He seemed to study him for a long time. “Yuuri, are you fucking with me?” 

“Huh?” Yuuri’s brows raised in surprise. 

“Are you fucking with me? Are you just telling me all of this because you think I’m some supernatural nerd? Because I told you your room was haunted and that I like to watch ghost shows?” Phichit was pursing his lips. 

“What? N-no! No no! I’m not, I swear!” Yuuri held up his hands. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m serious. Everything I told you is true.” 

Phichit sat looking at Yuuri narrowly for another moment, making a thoughtful humming sound. Then he smiled again and nodded. “Ok. I believe you. So, what’s this haunted object?”

Yuuri shrugged, stalling for time. He didn’t really want to tell Phichit about the ring. It was... special. Something that had belonged to Victor, something that was now his, that now connected him to his childhood idol across space and time. Having it was like have a piece of him somehow. 

“I don’t know. Nothing, maybe. I just thought maybe that’s what was happening. Maybe there’s something of his still there. I know he died there, so maybe that’s enough reason for him to haunt it, but it just seems like... I don’t know. It’s not like Victor had been here very long when it happened. It’s not like he had a major connection to this place.” Yuuri shrugged again. “It just seems strange that he’d choose this place to haunt.” 

“I don’t really think it’s a choice,” Phichit said. “I mean, most people believe that ghosts haunt places because they have some unfinished business or something. Or they died suddenly or tragically and can’t accept they’re dead.” 

Yuuri twisted his lips, looking back out the window. “I guess that fits. Victor did die suddenly.” He took a deep breath, thinking about all of the potential and promise that died with Victor Nikiforov. All of the hopes and plans he’d probably had for his career. If he’d lived he’d be in his mid twenties now. Would he still be skating? 

He wondered what it was that still tied Victor to this world. 

* * *

When Yuuri returned to his room it was with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. Phichit had wanted to come with him to try to experience some of the haunting himself, but Yuuri convinced him that he really just wanted to get some rest. He’d had a rough day afterall. 

But really he just wanted to be alone with it all. To think about what it all meant and to wonder if he was crazy. 

With a sigh he sat down on the bed, lying back against the pillows. Yuuri held up his phone, chewing his lips absently as he brought up the messages. Just reading them made his heart skip a nervous beat. The thought that they could come not only from a ghost, but from Victor Nikiforov was dizzying. Both exciting and terrifying at the same time. 

He hadn’t responded to the cryptic claim after he read the latest message. He’d been too shocked, and maybe even too afraid at the time. And now, looking at the message again, he didn’t know what to say. 

_ Are you really a ghost? Are you really Victor Nikiforov? How do you know I’m sad? Why do you care that I’m sad?  _

None of them seemed like very good responses to a first contact from beyond the grave. Though if the ghost of Victor Nikiforov really was hanging around in his room, he supposed it was kind of touching that he was concerned about his emotional welfare. 

With a deep breath Yuuri stared finally replied. 

**Yuuri Katsuki:** _ Are you really Victor Nikiforov?  _

He stared at the screen, almost expecting an immediate response. But nothing happened. A little pang of disappointment settled in his stomach, and Yuuri groaned in spite of himself. How incredibly stupid was this? Thinking he was texting with someone who was dead.  

Feeling kind of foolish he set the phone down and then flopped onto his side. He should go for a run like he planned, but his mind was so full, he just wanted to lie there. His gaze fell on the ring. It was still sitting where he’d left it on the bedside table.   

Frowning softly he picked it up. It still felt warm. He turned it around in his fingers, angling it so he could see the inscription. He touched the inside with his fingertip and then slowly slid it onto his finger. It was odd how well it fit. 

Again nothing seemed to happen. The ring felt warm and weighted on his hand. 

Had he felt this tired a moment ago? Yuuri’s eyes began to feel heavier and heavier. He pulled his glasses off before burrowing down under the blankets. It was only a matter of moments before he was soundly asleep. 

At first Yuuri’s dreams were normal. Just a mish mash of images and concepts that ran into one another, creating a more or less completely incomprehensive series of events as his mind unpacked the day. But then Yuuri found himself in a dream the likes of which he’d never had before. 

It was incredibly vivid. There wasn’t that ambiguous feeling that usually accompanies dreams about who he was or where he was or what was going on. He was very clearly, lucidly standing on a sheet of ice that seemed to stretch out forever in every direction. Above him, instead of the ceiling and lights of a rink, was an endless, cosmic sky. A kaleidoscope of colors and stars. 

He blinked, looking around in amazement and confusion. As he turned he heard a familiar scraping sound. He looked at his feet; he was wearing his skates.

His gaze  turned all the way around in a circle. In every direction the ice stretched to the horizon where it touched the stars. He was utterly alone in this endless expanse that was as lonely and frightening as it was beautiful. 

He skated a few feet. The sound of his blades against the ice seemed to reverberate in the endlessness. 

“Hello?” he called out into it. The stars above seemed to brighten for a brief second. He stretched his hand up towards them. “Is anyone there? Please, I don’t want to be alone.” The final words were little more than a whisper, swallowed by a sudden, gripping loneliness. 

“Yuuri?” 

He turned, surprised that someone had answered his cry. Standing a few feet away from him, wearing an expression that seemed to mirror his own bewilderment, was the same young man he’d seen in his mirror. He was sure of it. He wasn’t as faded and ghostly as he’d been in the reflection, and now he absolutely, unmistakable knew him. They stared at each other for a long moment. 

“Victor Nikiforov,” he said in an exhalation of breath. 

Victor smiled. “Yes.” 

Yuuri continued to stare. “Wow. You’re...  _ real.” _ He blinked. “Or at least as real as someone can be in a dream, I guess. And you’re  _ really _ handsome. I mean, more so in person than on TV or in pictures, especially considering that you’re dead.” 

Victor blinked and then laughed. “Yuuri! You’re quite forward, not to mention a little on the blunt side.” 

Yuuri colored a little. “Sorry. It’s a dream, so I guess I feel like I can say whatever I want.” 

Victor looked up at the ceiling-sky. “Is that what this is? A dream?” 

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m asleep, so... I don’t know what else it would be. I guess the real question is whether or not you're just a part of my dream, or if you’re... real. I guess ghosts can haunt people’s dreams, can’t they?” It was an odd conversation to be having with someone, dream or no dream.

Victor chuckled. “As far as I’m concerned I’m real. But I don’t know about the dreams. I’ve never be  _ in _ someone’s dream before. Not like this.” 

“Then... how did you get here?” 

“You called to me and I was here.” 

Yuuri thought about his cry to the stars. Had he really been calling out to Victor? Had he been thinking about him that much? He turned away, a little uncomfortable with the thought, and looked out over the endless ice. 

“Why are we on a giant skating rink?” 

Victor laughed. “I don’t know. This is your dream, isn’t it? Or maybe... it is  _ our _ dream?” He smiled, giving Yuuri a soft look. “Either way, I’m happy. I haven’t skated in ages and I’ve wanted to see you skate ever since you pulled your skates out of your bag.” 

Yuuri furrowed his brows, looking back at Victor. “So you  _ have _ been watching me.” 

Victor’s smile became a little sheepish and he shrugged. “There’s not much else for me to do. Honestly being a ghost is very boring.” He looked a bit apologetic. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just... it’s very lonely, and I like to be with you.” 

Yuuri blinked and was surprised to find himself actually blushing. It wasn’t every day an incredibly good looking man told you they liked to be with you. Even if that incredibly good looking man was technically dead. 

“Why did you tell me not to be sad?” 

Victor started skating slowly around, moving gracefully over the ice like he was testing his legs, but he continued to face Yuuri as he moved. “I just wanted to comfort you somehow. You always seem to be so hard on yourself. You seem so lonely, and I’m also very lonely. Though it’s been nice since you came. I enjoy playing with your phone especially.” 

Yuuri chuckled. So all the weird stuff going on with his phone had been Victor’s doing after all. His eyes followed each of his elegant movements as he began to skate more elaborately, doing a small step sequence and then a quick double rotation jump. As he watched, Yuuri began to notice there was a kind of faded quality to him, even against the more or less dark backdrop of the endless skating rink in the cosmos. He wasn’t transparent, but it was like his saturation level had been turned down a few notches. 

Victor laughed as he landed another jump. “Ah! It feels so good! Come on, Yuuri! Join me. I want to see your skating.” He held out his hand towards him. 

“Shouldn’t we warm up first?” Yuuri called with a wry smile. He pushed off with his toe pick, falling into a smooth glide.  

Victor laughed again. “I think that, seeing as I am a ghost and you are dreaming, it really doesn’t matter.” 

Yuuri couldn’t argue with that logic and from somewhere above them in the cosmic sky, music - the music of his previous season’s free skate - began to play. He fell easily into his routine. He could have skated it with his eyes closed, or in his sleep. 

He let the music move him, flowing easily into each piece of choreography. He landed every jump, perfected every spin, held every position. He felt more graceful than he’d ever felt in the waking world. It was an ecstatic feeling. Otherworldly. Every movement was without fear or hesitation. 

When the music ended Yuuri took a bow as Victor applauded. 

“Yuuri, that was wonderful! You’re a beautiful skater. Your steps are so expressive. Though your jumps are a bit stiff.” 

Yuuri snorted and shook his head. “Wow, where have I heard that before?” 

“Probably from your coach,” Victor said matter-of-factly. 

Yuuri smirked. “From more than one of them.” 

Victor skated closer and Yuuri was struck by how solid he was despite his slightly faded appearance. Without thinking he reached out and was surprised when his hand came to rest against Victor’s chest. He was actually able to touch him.

When Victor looked down at his hand, Yuuri drew away like he’d touched something hot. 

“S-sorry! I... I didn’t expect you to be solid.” 

Victor looked up, his eyes alight. “I didn’t expect me to be solid either! This is wonderful!” He reached for Yuuri’s hand again, squeezing it tightly as he drew it back to his chest and then to his face, pressing it against his skin. “Yuuri you’re so warm!” He released Yuuri’s hand only to throw his arms around him. 

Yuuri flushed darkly, his voice dying in his throat as Victor began to rub his cheek against the top of his head. “And your hair is so soft!” 

“V-victor?” Yuuri croaked, his voice muffled against Victor’s shoulder. “This is kind of... um...” 

“Ah, I haven’t hugged anybody in so long.” 

The words, although they weren’t said with any particular self-pity, struck Yuuri as incredibly, achingly sad. What must it feel like not to be touched or held or even talked to for so long? He often felt alone and even lonely. He didn’t have a lot of friends, and honestly wasn’t that great at making or keeping them. But, still, he couldn’t quite fathom the depth of the kind of isolation Victor must have felt. 

Yuuri closed his eyes and after a moment gently returned the embrace. They stood like that on the ice, bracing one another against their mutual loneliness for some time. Neither said anything. 

Finally Victor pulled back, a soft, sad smile on his face. “Thank you, Yuuri. That was very kind.” 

Yuuri smiled back at the specter of his childhood idol. He felt a heavy warmth in his body. “It must be hard, being all alone,” Yuuri replied. Canting his head, Yuuri twisted his lips. “Why  _ are _ you haunting the dorm room? I mean. I know you died suddenly, but why... why hang around if it’s so lonely?” 

Victor frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know I can’t leave. Maybe it’s like this for everyone when they die.” 

Yuuri frowned. He didn’t buy that explanation. He held up his hand. The ring was there, glinting on his finger. “Maybe it has something to do with this? Maybe you’re not haunting the room. Maybe you’re haunting this. It’s been there the whole time.” 

Victor’s eyes fixed on the ring, his gaze going a little distant. “I... don’t know.” He reached out to take Yuuri’s hand, pulling it closer so he could look at the ring. 

“Who gave it to you?” 

“My parents. I think?” He shook his head with a sigh. “I don’t remember very well. Some things about my life have started to get... fuzzy.”   

Yuuri frowned faintly. “I don’t know why, but I feel like it has something to do with this. Try to remember. Maybe if you can we can figure out how to... uh... set you free, or whatever.” 

A shiver went through the dream and a crack split the ice between them. Yuuri looked up to see the cosmic sky breaking into shards. Victor looked up as well. 

“I think it’s time to wake up.” 

Yuuri came awake with a start, feeling utterly disoriented. Where was he? What was that sound? It took only a few moments for his head to clear and for him to realize he was hearing his phone ringing. The room was dark, which meant he’d been asleep for at least a couple hours. Pushing up on one arm he reached clumsily for his phone. 

“H-hello?” 

The voice on the other end was his mother’s. That meant it was close to ten pm already. His mother always called just before starting her day in Japan. 

He sat up, still feeling a bit dazed after the intense, vivid dream. Could it really even be called a dream, or was it some sort of vision? A visitation? Had it been real, or just a product of his overactive imagination and everything else he’d been thinking about that day?  

It felt real. Victor had felt real. 

His thumb spun the ring on his finger while he chatted with his mother. It was smooth and warm against his skin.  

When the conversation was over he got up and washed up for the night, preparing to go to bed properly. He didn’t know if he’d be able to get any real sleep now that his head was full of skating with Victor. There was so much he should have asked him. About his life and what it was like to be dead. He wanted to know what he could do to help him. Surely he didn’t want to be trapped in this dorm room forever. But maybe, if he was right about the ring, he wouldn’t have to be. 

Yuuri felt the weight of the ring on his finger as he lay back down in bed, turning it slowly with his thumb. 

As he stared up at the ceiling his phone screen lit up. Yuuri reached for it, blinking owlishly.

**Unknown Sender:** _ Thank you for the hug.  _

Yuuri’s heart started pounding. It had been real. This was real.  _ Victor _ was real. 

He swallowed and then typed a response, though he imagined that if Victor was there in the room he could probably just have said it out loud. Still. It felt less awkward to reply via text. 

**Yuuri Katsuki:** _Tomorrow I want to try something. Be ready._

Feeling a tremor of mixed excitement and anxiety, Yuuri set his phone back on the nightstand and rolled over onto his side. Despite how heavy his mind was, he began to drift slowly back into sleep. He could have sworn he felt the faint pressure of someone else’s weight on the bed beside him. 

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri made sure he was up on time, and ready and dressed in his practice clothes with enough time to spare for breakfast. He made sure he took his cell phone, and he also made sure he was wearing Victor’s ring. He paused in the doorway to the room, touched the ring with his thumb and then took a deep breath. 

“C’mon, Victor. Let’s go,” he said quietly. 

Nothing seemed particularly different when he walked out of the room, so he had no idea if he was right or not in his assumption. But he kept the ring on all day long, wearing it as he ate breakfast in the dining hall, as he walked across campus, and during his practice and training. He wanted to think - to  _ believe  _ \- that Victor was there with him, seeing the outside world for the first time in all those years. He hoped he was watching him and the other skaters practice. 

He was gratified to find he had a new message notification when he came off the ice to check his phone, mopping the back of his neck with a towel. The text made him grin happily. 

**Unknown Sender:** _Yuurii!! Thank you!_

That night when he fell asleep he had another lucid dream of Victor. This time they were on a beach, not unlike that of his hometown. The fine sands stretched off in either direction forever, and the sea was an endless gray-green to the horizon. Above them white clouds moved slowly across a warm sun.

Yuuri watched the sea as he listened to Victor talk about everything he’d seen that day, smiling at his excitement over something as mundane as a squirrel in a trash can or the bleachers around the rink. 

“When you left the room this morning I was practically pulled right out with you.” He laughed. “I didn’t know what was happening at first!” 

Yuuri grinned. “I’m glad I was right. Now you don’t have to be trapped in that room.” 

Victor beamed at him. “You really are too kind, Yuuri. I was so happy to spend the day with you.” 

Yuuri felt a twinge in his chest. Surely there were other people Victor would want to be with, that would have given him a more fulfilling experience considering his limitations. 

He turned his head to look at him. Victor’s hair was practically white in the grayish sunlight. “Maybe someday I could take you back to Russia or something. You must have family there, right? A home you’d want to return to? You mentioned your parents before.” 

Victor’s face clouded a little and his expression fell. He looked back up at the sky. “I... don’t really remember. I mean, I’m sure I have parents, but I can’t remember what our relationship was like or... what they were like.” 

Yuuri swallowed. “I could do some research. There’s all kinds of information about you on the internet. Somewhere I’m sure it mentions your family.” 

Victor was quiet for a few moments. “If you like,” he said at length. 

“Do you not want to remember? Aren’t you curious about your life?” 

Victor took a deep breath.“I guess... I’m just afraid that remembering will only make me more unhappy. That it will make me yearn for the life I had that has ended.” He looked over at Yuuri again. “You’ve already given me so much more than I had before. I want to be happy with what I can have. Not longing for something that is gone forever.” 

Yuuri smiled faintly. Victor’s words filled him with that deep sadness again. “I guess I can understand that. I’d still like to try to help you pass on, or whatever it’s called.” 

Victor smiled teasingly. “You wouldn’t miss me if I was gone?” 

“I...” Yuuri paused and then smiled wryly. “It would be pretty selfish of me to want you to stay like this just because I enjoy having a ghost for a friend.” 

Victor’s face lit up. “Yuuri! You think of me as a friend?” 

Yuuri flushed softly and then laughed. “Well... yeah. I mean... I don’t know what else to call you. We’ve only met a couple times, technically, but I’ve looked up to you since I was a kid and after everything I feel like... we’re close, somehow.” 

Victor’s expression softened. “I didn’t know you looked up to me that much. That makes me happy. I like the idea of being close to someone again.” After a moment he flopped back onto the sand, looking up at the sky. “Why did you come here to skate? Why did you leave Japan?” 

Yuuri blinked at the sudden question, surprised at how it seemed to come out of nowhere. “Uh, why?” he repeated. Victor nodded. Yuuri pursed his lips and looked back out at the sea. A seagull cried, a kind of mournful sound as it flew over the waves. “Well. I guess because I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like my skating in Japan had plateaued. I’m ranked pretty high in the JSF. But even so I felt like I’d learned all I could from my coaches there and I just wasn’t able to push myself to the next level.” He frowned as he watched a fluffy cloud pass by overhead. 

Victor didn’t say anything, giving him the time to continue on his own. 

“Skating is really the only thing I’m any good at,” Yuuri went on finally. “I’ve never had a lot of self confidence and I’ve always had a kind of nervous and anxious personality. Skating practice was always kind of like meditation for me. It helps me focus and keep calm. I don’t do that well under a lot of pressure, which is probably counter intuitive since I’m in a competitive sport.” He chuckled faintly. 

“I thought that coming to study in the US and joining a big collegiate skating program would give me the edge I needed to improve, to win on the world stage. Not just at home in Japan. Coach Celestino is really well known and he’s worked with a lot of top skaters. Knowing he could be my coach gave me hope that I could actually achieve my dream.” 

Yuuri turned his face when he felt Victor’s hand touch his cheek. The dead man was looking at him with a soft smile. “You are a very beautiful skater, Yuuri. You already have everything you need to achieve your dream. I know it.” 

A tingling heat crept up Yuuri’s neck and into his face and ears. He blinked at Victor and then smiled bashfully. “Thank you, Victor. That means a lot to me.” 

“Now. If you could just relax more into your jumps and perfect your landings, you’d be absolutely unstoppable,” he said with a rueful grin before sitting back up all the way. 

Yuuri snorted. “Maybe you should be my coach, Victor.” 

Victor chuckled. “Mmm... if I was still alive. I would be the perfect age to be your coach. A suave, debonair, silver fox coaching you to victory from the rink side. You could not fail.”

Yuuri chuckled. “I don’t know if you’d exactly be a ‘silver fox.’ You’d still be in your twenties. But, if you were still alive I would definitely ask you to be my coach.” 

He looked over at Yuuri. “I think I wouldn’t be able to say no.” 

Yuuri felt a warm heaviness settle in his chest. The clouds above started to speed up, chasing each other across the sky at a fantastical pace. When he looked over at Victor again, he was gone. And then the ground opened up and he started to fall the way you only fall in dreams, waking upon impact to the sound of his alarm. 


	4. Bonding

It was weird and wonderful having Victor as his secret, otherworldly companion. Every day Yuuri wore the ring, taking Victor with him wherever he went. They used his cell phone to communicate, leaving one another messages that were the highlight of Yuuri’s day. Victor had a strange sense of humor, and was surprisingly childish at times. But then again, Yuuri realized that technically Victor was younger than he was. He’d died at only nineteen, and Yuuri was already in his early twenties. 

At night Yuuri would dream, and often Victor would be there in an ever changing kaleidoscope of locations. Beaches, mountains, lakes, odd foreign landscapes. Often they ended up at the endless skating rink under the cosmic sky. That was his favorite, because it meant they could skate together. 

Getting to know Victor, talking to him and opening up to him in their private dream world somehow made it easier for Yuuri to open up to people in real life. Victor always seemed so genuinely interested in him, excited to spend time with him. It made him feel special in a way he’d never felt before, and some of his self-deprecation began to fade away in favor of self-confidence. As his relationship with Victor grew, so too did his relationships with Phichit, his coach, and his other rinkmates. 

The more Yuuri wore the ring and the more time he and Victor spent together in the dreams, the stronger the connection between them became. And not just in the sense of their deepening friendship. Yuuri began to sense Victor’s presence and could even see him now and then out of the corner of his eye or reflected in his mirror. Though he could still never see him when he looked at him directly. Now and then he could even hear him and when they were very close, like at night when Victor would settle down next to him on the bed, he could even  _ smell _ him: a sweet yet masculine scent with a hint of ozone. 

The remaining summer months passed by quickly, a blur of practice and training and Victor. And then it was fall and classes started. 

The first week, much like his first week of summer training, was exhausting. There were so many new people on campus it felt crowded. He couldn’t help but be self-conscious about his English or his accent, even though he was told by just about everyone that his English was perfect. On top of adjusting to a new schedule and the stress of beginning classes, skating practice now went longer into each evening since the days were taken up by school. 

Through each long day, Yuuri found strength in the knowledge that Victor was with him, and at night he took respite in their shared dreams. 

Victor enjoyed the busy days, accompanying Yuuri to his classes, wandering his lecture halls and observing his classmates throughout the day. There was so much energy everywhere, so many people, so much to see. It made him feel almost... alive. 

Their time together had made his admiration and gratitude toward Yuuri grow deeper every day. And there was another feeling, one that he secretly and guiltily nurtured. It was a joy he felt when they were together, when he could touch Yuuri’s hand in a dream and know that he could  _ see _ him. A longing that was his guilty pleasure. 

They were sitting in a snowy field dotted by copses of snow dusted trees. It wasn’t cold, though, and the snow around them didn’t melt through their clothes as soft, silent flakes drifted down. Yuuri’s legs were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them tightly as he rested his chin on his knees. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” Victor said softly. 

“I’m tired, I guess. Sorry, Victor.” 

Victor’s gaze was soft as he reached over to brush some snow from Yuuri’s hair. “No need to be sorry. I’m happy just to be here with you.” 

Yuuri smiled, turning his face and resting his cheek on his knee as he looked at Victor. Against the white backdrop of the snowy field he seemed even more faded than usual. The thought made Yuuri’s heart clench involuntarily, and the desire to cling onto him was surprisingly strong. It was selfish of him, wasn’t it? To want Victor to remain like this with him? 

“What do you think heaven is like?” Yuuri asked suddenly. “Or... I don’t know, maybe not heaven. But whatever is next. Whatever is beyond... where you are now.” 

Victor looked surprised by the question, his thin brows rising. He frowned a little and looked out at the field sloping away before them. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s nice. A place filled with happiness and love? Something like that.”

“Would you go there if you could?” 

Victor looked at Yuuri for a long, quiet moment and then he frowned. “Why are you asking me this?” 

Yuuri shifted, feeling uncomfortable and uneasy. He squeezed his knees harder. “I don’t know. I just... I feel bad, I guess. That you’re stuck here with me. I feel like I should be doing more to help you.” 

Victor’s gaze stayed on Yuuri for another few seconds and then he sighed softly. He shifted closer and leaned in against Yuuri’s side, resting his head on his shoulder with a soft chuckle. “You have already done so much for me, Yuuri. You have no idea how happy it’s made me.” 

“I know but, that’s different,” Yuuri protested, feeling an unhappy sense of frustration. “You shouldn’t be trapped here. It’s not... it’s not right. You didn’t do anything to deserve it. You shouldn’t be punished for no reason.” 

Victor lifted his head and Yuuri felt his hand on his cheek, drawing his face up from his knees and turning it towards him. Victor’s face was so close and so beautiful it took his breath away. That gnawing sense of guilt returned, making his stomach hurt. He shouldn’t  _ want _ Victor beside him like this. 

“Yuuri, being with you is no punishment. And I’m not trapped.” He took Yuuri’s hand, lifting it so they could both see the ring. “I can go anywhere, everywhere with you. You’ve already set me free.” 

“Victor, that’s not-”

Yuuri’s protests were cut short as Victor leaned in and covered his mouth with a short, soft kiss. 

When Victor sat back he was grinning. Yuuri just sat there, staring at him stupidly. After a moment he managed to stammer, “V-victor...!” 

Victor giggled and stuck out his tongue. “Oops.” 

Yuuri felt himself growing red all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

“Wow. You’re turning very red, Yuuri,” Victor said sweetly, still smiling his impish smile. “You look like I stole your first kiss or something.” 

Yuuri only turned redder, opening his mouth to say something, but only spluttering came out. 

Victor blinked and then gasped before starting to laugh. “I did! Yuuri, how can you not have kissed anyone at your age?” 

Yuuri spluttered and then managed to huff, “Don’t make fun of me! Anyone would be shocked being kissed by a dead guy!” 

Victor continued to laugh. “That’s right! You are maybe the only person in the history of the world who has lost their first kiss to a ghost!” 

Yuuri scowled, feeling an intense mixture of embarrassment and nervous excitement. Victor had kissed him. He had no idea what that meant, and he knew it made no logical sense, but... it made him happy. “Shut up!” he said with an embarrassed laugh, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at Victor’s face. 

Victor laughed, grabbing for Yuuri as he flopped back into the fluffy snow. Yuuri made an undignified croaking sound as he was pulled off balance into the harmless, white powder. Giggling he pushed back up on one arm, pushing another handful of snow into Victor’s face. 

Victor swatted it away, grabbing Yuuri’s wrist and yanking him towards him and off balance once again. Yuuri managed to catch himself before he landed across Victor’s chest, his hand planted firmly on his sternum. They were both laughing and covered in unmelting snow flakes as they looked at one another. 

Then Victor’s hand touched Yuuri’s cheek again and neither of them were laughing. 

The air between them crackled and Yuuri opened his mouth to say something. But just as he did the sky above them broke open and poured a cacophony of noise down onto their quiet, white world. 

Then Yuuri was awake, the tempo of his alarm almost as fast as his beating heart. 

* * *

Yuuri felt unusually excited to practice that day. All day long he couldn’t stop thinking about the previous night’s dream. About Victor in the snow, the brief, cold press of his lips, the solidity of his chest beneath his hand. They had shared something in that dream. Something that left him aching and  _ wanting _ of something in a way he never had before. He knew it was probably wrong, or at the very lease incredibly weird to feel something like that for a man who was dead. But Victor was  _ real _ . Even if he was a ghost. In the world they shared together in his dreams he was almost more real than anything else in Yuuri’s life.  

He’d wanted to talk to Victor about it, but he hadn’t really known what to say. Victor had probably just been playing around. And the kiss had been just the slightest peck. To someone who was experienced in that kind of thing it probably didn’t even count as a real kiss. 

Victor probably wasn’t feeling like a giddy school boy over a brief moment of wrestling in the snow. His doubts and confusion kept Yuuri from messaging Victor all day. 

Even so he couldn’t shake the good mood the night before had left him in. And by the time he made it to practice he was itching to get out on the ice. He knew Victor would be watching him.  

He went through his warm up drills as quickly as he could, and to his surprise and continued excitement Yuuri could feel Victor’s presence as he followed him around the ice. It made him feel calm and strong. It gave him confidence far beyond what he could ever manage on his own. 

Finally he began to run through his routine. His skin prickled and the hairs on his arms and neck stood up as he felt Victor moving beside him, matching his movements turn by turn. If he closed his eyes it seemed like he could surely reach out and touch him. He could feel his strength, his poise, his vibrant energy flowing into him, around him. 

A cold, electric shock shivered through his body and suddenly Victor’s presence wasn’t just there next to him anymore. Victor was inside of him. 

Yuuri could feel the grace of Victor’s long limbs, the exaggerated expressiveness of his elegant motions. He was there in the height of his jumps, the fluidity of his landings, the power and speed of his spins. He was there in the perfect arch of his back as he held a pose, and flowing through him as he executed a perfect step sequence. Victor was there with him, a part of him, a part of his skating. 

It was the strangest, most wonderful, most intimate thing he had ever experienced. A perfect synchronicity of their spirits. It felt like when he skated in the dreams, but better. 

As he came out of his final spin Yuuri was panting. He felt dizzy and giddy and a little confused. Everyone was staring at him. There was silence around the rink for an uncomfortably long moment, broken finally by his coach. 

“Yuuri!” Celestino cried. “That was amazing! You’ve been holding out on me!” 

“Yuuri, that was so good!” Phichit cried. 

Yuuri blinked. What exactly had just happened? He skated to the rink wall and off the ice, still panting. Celestino was beaming at him. 

“You need to skate like that everyday!” 

Yuuri just nodded at his coach. “I don’t... I mean... I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what was different.” 

Celestino laughed. “That’s ok! Just try to capture it again. That’s the skating I want to see from you, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri nodded, as he exited the rink, reaching for his skate guards. He felt overwhelmed. “Ok. But, um... I think I need to be done for today. I’m not... I’m feeling kind of strange.” 

Celestino frowned. “After a performance like that you should feel amazing. But maybe you pushed yourself further than you’re used to. That’s a good thing though. You have to push through old boundaries to find new ground. You made a great breakthrough today. I’m very proud of you. We’ll review the tape later.” 

Phichit skated over. “Yuuri, that was awesome! You landed your quad so beautifully!”

Yuuri smiled at his friend. “Thanks, Phichit.” He tried to think back on the routine. He didn’t even remember landing a quad. The whole thing was kind of a blur. “I’m gonna take a break. I’ll see you later.” 

Phichit nodded, a look of mild concern crossing his face. “Oh. Ok. I’ll come get you for dinner.” Phichit waved as Yuuri put on his skate guards and then headed to the locker room. 

He messaged Victor as soon as he was alone, leaning against the lockers, his heart still racing. 

**Yuuri Katsuki:** _What was that??_

He set the phone aside as he changed out of his skates. When it chimed, he paused in packing his things away and picked it up.

**Unknown Sender:** _ I think... I possessed you. Sort of. Did you hate it?  _

He blinked at the screen, staring at the message for a long moment. Possessed him? That sort of thing was possible? He chewed the inside of his lip, unsure how to answer, then hesitantly typed a response. 

**Yuuri Katsuki:** _ I didn’t hate it. It surprised me. I didn’t know you could do that.  _

He held the phone, waiting for a response. 

**Unknown Sender:** _ Neither did I. Let’s go back. I want to try something else.  _

Yuuri twisted his lips. The statement was a little bit ominous. But he had to admit that he really hadn’t hated the feeling of Victor being inside him like that. It wasn’t as if he was controlling him, it was more like... like they had merged somehow. The thought made him blush, and he hated knowing that Victor was probably sitting right there watching him turn bright red. 

**Yuuri Katsuki:** _ Ok. Don’t do anything weird, though.  _

Victor’s response was a peace sign emoji followed by about five hearts. 

“That doesn’t really make me feel any better,” Yuuri mumbled as he put his phone away and then shouldered his bag to head back to his dorm room.

* * *

**Yuuri Katsuki:** _ Ok. Now what?  _

Yuuri sat on his bed cross legged, leaning back into the pillow. He could feel Victor right next to him. 

“ _ Close your eyes. _ ” 

Victor’s voice sounded like it came from a long ways away. It was little more than a whisper in Yuuri’s ear, eerie and a little distorted. It made a shiver go up his spine. 

Yuuri furrowed his brows, but complied, sitting forward a little bit, holding his phone in his lap. 

“Victor?” 

“ _ Hold still.” _

Another shiver went through Yuuri, but this one had less to do with Victor’s eerie voice and more to do with the sense of anticipation he was feeling. What was Victor going to do? 

“Are you going to possess me again?” he asked after a moment of nothing happening. But there was no response. Another long moment passed and Yuuri was about to open his eyes when he felt something brush his cheek. He inhaled softly as he realized that he was feeling Victor’s touch. It was cool and made his skin prickle, but he was certain he could feel the pressure of individual fingertips and then fingers as Victor caressed his face. 

Yuuri let out a quivering breath. Victor had touched him many times in his dreams, but this was different. This was  _ real. _ His eyelids fluttered, but he kept them closed. 

Another cool brush against his neck made his gasp softly. He could feel fingers moving against the back of his neck, pushing into the hairs at the base of his skull. Every hair on his body was standing on end. He could smell Victor too. That mixture of sweet and masculine with a tinge of ozone. 

“Victor...” he whispered as he felt something cool brush against his lips. Yuuri’s heart was beating like crazy, and he was torn between the instinct to pull away from the phantom touches and the deep yearning he had for this connection they shared. He swallowed and stilled, taking a deep breath. 

Victor’s lips were soft and cool. He could feel them against his own, the weight and pressure of them, the angle of his upper lip, the fullness of the bottom one. He could feel Victor’s nose touch his cheek and then brush against his own. He could feel Victor kissing him, touching his face, curling his fingers in his hair. But when Yuuri reached out instinctively to touch him in return there was nothing there. He made a sound of frustrated longing, fingers clutching at nothingness. 

Victor’s lips left a trail of cold along his jaw, his fingers left gooseflesh down his neck. Yuuri could feel his touch through his shirt, cool and dry against his skin. These touches, these kisses weren’t like in the dream. That had been a peck, a whim of Victor’s. But this was lingering and sensual, full of intention and purpose, and Yuuri was surprised at how much he wanted it, and how much it  _ hurt _ to want it so badly and know that he couldn’t see or touch Victor the way he was seeing and touching him. 

“Victor,” he whispered. “It’s not fair.” He felt tears pricking at his eyes. His fingers grasped aimlessly at the air again. 

_ “Do you trust me?” _ Victor’s voice was closer now, like it was spoken directly in his ear. But it was still faint, as if carried there on a wind. 

“Yes,” Yuuri said, his voice quavering a little. 

_ “Then relax. Let me give you something.”  _

And suddenly, Victor had  _ weight. _ Yuuri could feel his strong body pushing against him, pushing him down against the pillows. 

“W-wait. Victor,” he gasped, his eyes fluttering open. He could see the ceiling as his head tipped back. His vision swam as tickles of cold electricity went down his spine. His back arched and he sighed. It was like Victor was touching him everywhere at once. Not just his lips or his fingers, but as if he was surrounding him, covering him. 

And then that same feeling he’d felt on the ice. Like Victor wasn’t just beside him anymore, but like he was pouring into him, filling him, like he was inside of him. And everything inside of him was suddenly melting. 

He fell back against the bed, huffing, brows furrowed. His body was on fire, but in the most wonderful way. Yuuri’s toes curled as a sensation unlike anything he’d ever imagined rippled from the end of every nerve in his body. 

“Oh... my... God...” he gasped, fingers twisting in the bedding. He trembled as he covered his mouth with his hand. What was Victor doing to him? 

His hips rose off the bed as a rolling sensation began deep inside of him, waves of pulsing sensation each breaking in a little peak of pleasure. Flushed and panting Yuuri rolled his hips in time, gasping between his fingers.

It was like Victor was making love to him in the only way he possibly could. And it wasn’t like anything Yuuri could have experienced with anyone else. Victor was inside of him, not in the cliche way lovers talked about, but in the most true and intimate sense of the term. His spirit was inside him,, tangling together with his own in an ecstatic mass of sensation. 

He cried out, hands moving into his hair, clutching it as if he was holding on for dear life. It was so much. Too much. He felt like he was going to explode or catch on fire or disintegrate or all three at the same time. And all he could do was lie there and let it happen. Everything was out of his control. It was as liberating as it was frightening. And it seemed to go on forever. 

“Victor...” he moaned, pressing his hands to his face as his body shuddered and rocked on top of the bed. He felt tears leaking between his fingers, as his emotions -  _ their  _ emotions - overwhelmed him. “Victor... please, I... I love you...” 

He came suddenly, back arching off the bed as he cried out between his fingers, more tears falling from his eyes. It was the most intense thing he had ever experienced and he knew somehow that Victor felt it, too, that he felt everything, that they shared everything. 

He lay gasping and shaking on the bed, flushed and dazed. Unsure of what exactly had just happened, and yet knowing full well. He felt the moment Victor left him, leaving behind a kind of hollow feeling, like when an embrace ends too soon. 

“Victor, don’t go...” he murmured, clutching the ring to his chest. 

“ _ I’m here, Yuuri. Don’t cry.”  _

The ghostly voice echoed softly in Yuuri’s ear and he let out a sob of relief. He could feel Victor beside him now and he rolled onto his side, clutching at the air. 

“I want to  _ touch _ you,” he said in almost desperate frustration. “Why can’t I touch you? It’s not fair.” His voice fell to a cracked whisper as he buried his face in his hands again. 

Victor gazed at Yuuri with an aching expression. He didn’t want him to cry. He didn’t want him to be upset. He’d wanted to make him happy, to share something with him. He hadn’t really meant to push thing so far, but then... it was just happening. He’d been drawn in by their shared and unspoken emotions, their mutual, silent desire. 

Victor touched Yuuri’s face and stroked his hair. It usually took effort to touch him like this, but their shared experience had given him energy, and it was almost easy. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tucking Yuuri’s head under his chin. Yuuri’s words, said more than once - it isn’t fair - reverberated in his mind. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair, least of all to Yuuri. Who was he to so selfishly draw him into his world? To let him desire him and love him? He was nothing. He could give Yuuri nothing. He was an empty promise. A nighttime visitor. A trapped spirit. 

He was a lie. A hungry ghost. 

He felt Yuuri fall asleep in his arms and then the familiar pull into his dreams. 

They faced each other on the endless ice. The cosmic sky above looked unusually stormy. 

It was Yuuri who reached for Victor first, aching to touch him and feel some solid proof of his existence in his arms. Embracing him tightly, Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s shoulder. Here he felt so solid, so real, so warm. It calmed and reassured him, even as it made the aching of his heart that much worse. 

Victor returned the embrace, pressing his nose into Yuuri’s hair. “I’m sorry. What I did was so selfish.” 

“No,” Yuuri croaked. “I’m the selfish one. I’m the one that’s happy you’re trapped here with me. I’m the one...” His words choked off as sorrow and guilt rose in him. He was the one who wanted Victor’s love. Who wanted to keep him all for himself. Who wanted him to be something he wasn’t, something he could never be. 

“You shouldn’t cling to me so,” Victor murmured. 

The words dug deeply into Yuuri’s heart and he shuddered. “I know. I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Victor furrowed his brows and leaned back. “Why are  _ you _ sorry?” 

Yuuri looked up at him, his face twisted as he tried to hold back tears. Did he always have to cry in front of Victor?  “Because... what if... what if I’m what’s holding you here?” 

Victor blinked. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been here all this time. Long before we even met.” 

“I know, but... I can’t help feeling like if it wasn’t for me you’d be able to find a way to... to move on. Or at least you’d be trying.” 

Victor shook his head. “That’s not true. It’s the other way around. I’m the one who is trapping you. I should never have...” His face fell and he sagged a little, pulling Yuuri back into his arms, though he sighed sadly against his hair. “I was so lonely, Yuuri, but I shouldn’t have let it come to this. I’m not even alive. There is nothing I can give you but longing. You should not love a ghost. I will bring you only unhappiness. You should let me go.” 

Yuuri trembled and then quietly spoke into Victor’s shoulder. “Is that... really what you want?” 

“What I want...” Victor said, his voice carrying far away like the wind, “is impossible.” 

Yuuri’s arms were empty and the dream began to crumble around him. The cosmic sky reached down to swallow him and he let it pull him up and out of the dream.  

* * *

For several nights Victor ignored the pull of Yuuri’s dreams, and Yuuri was left to dream alone. Their messages to one another were brief and few as each was left alone with the reality of their implausible, impossible feelings. 

For a the first time in a long time Yuuri took Victor’s ring off, leaving it on his bedside table. A pale band was now visible on his finger. It felt odd and lonely not wearing it, and it was even more lonely not to feel Victor with him throughout the day. But it seemed like maybe it was best for them to both have some time alone. 

Yuuri spent time in the campus library rather than returning to his room immediately after practice. When he was supposed to be studying his mind wandered and he found himself scouring the internet once again for information on ghosts and how to “cross them over.” Apparently that was the term commonly used by self-proclaimed mediums and exorcists. 

Crossing over. Into what? 

He read articles that described glowing portals, doorways, the magnificent love of God. Always some passage or pathway spirits could take to the world beyond the realm of the living. There were ways to help spirits find them, even ways to force them to go into them. 

The thought of watching Victor disappear into some glowing doorway through which he would never return left Yuuri feeling lonelier and emptier than he’d ever felt before. And the selfishness of his own desire never to see it happen left him feeling guilty and wretched. Wasn’t that where Victor was meant to be? His being trapped here was a mistake. Surely Yuuri had no right to want to keep him there if he could find a way to release him. 

Yuuri turned these thoughts over and over in his head, and they were what he was thinking about as he and Phichit sat in his friend’s room a few days later. 

“Have you ever wanted something you knew was selfish and probably wrong?” Yuuri asked as he watched one of Phichit’s hamsters move back and forth from one of his hands to the other. After dinner that night he hadn’t wanted to go back to his dorm room to be alone, longing for Victor. 

“Only like every single day of my life,” Phichit said with a laugh. “Isn’t that human nature? To want things and be selfish? I mean, as competitors we’re all selfish, right? Sure I want to support you as my friend and rinkmate, but what I really want is to win, which means beating you. Isn’t that selfish?”

Yuuri blinked and then laughed. He’d never thought about it like that. “Yeah, when you put it that way, I guess you’re right.” 

Phichit sat forward, picking up another of the hamsters from the floor where it had happily been inspecting a bowl of seeds. “You don’t strike me as a very selfish person, Yuuri. You work hard and you’re nice to everyone. Even though you’re a better skater than anyone else in the program you don’t come across as looking down your nose at us.” 

Yuuri frowned. “Of course not. And honestly, Phichit, I don’t think I’m any better than anyone else in the program.” 

Phichit held up his hand. “Yuuri, please. Look, what I’m trying to say is that... I think it’s ok to be selfish and to want things. You’re a good person. So whatever you’re worried about... just, try not to worry so much.” 

Yuuri took a deep breath and then sighed with a faint chuckle. “Thank’s Phichit. Worrying and overthinking things are my specialties.” 

Phichit smiled. “Yeah, I’ve kind of gathered that.” He leaned over and then set the hamster on the top of Yuuri’s head with a giggle. Then he reached for the one in Yuuri’s hand, setting it next to the first on his head. It was soon joined by the third. “Don’t move.” 

Yuuri blinked, furrowing his brows. “Uh... ok.” He could feel the one of the hamsters nosing around at his hair. 

Phichit slid in next to him and help up his phone. “Say cheese!” Before Yuuri could even smile Phichit had snapped a quick selfie of them. 

Phichit looked at the phone and then started laughing before holding it up for Yuuri. Yuuri looked at the picture of himself next to his friend, his expression caught halfway between confusion and consternation, the hamsters sitting on his head. He couldn’t help but start to laugh, and once he started the tight, uncomfortable feeling that had been wound so tight in his chest finally began to loosen.  

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Life was ridiculous. And maybe, just maybe, so was death. 

He laughed so hard that Phichit had to remove the hamsters out of concern they were going to fall from how hard Yuuri was shaking. For several long moments Yuuri could hardly breath, let alone answer Phichit concerned inquiries as to whether or not he was alright. 

Finally he pulled off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. He’d laughed so hard tears had some out. “I’m... I’m fine,” he said between giggles. “I’m sorry. I guess I just... really needed that.” 

Phichit gave him a concerned look, but then smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder. “You really need to not be so hard on yourself. Stop overthinking everything. Relax. Put a hamster on your head. You only live once, right? I mean... unless we Buddhists are right afterall.” He grinned at Yuuri. 

Yuuri looked back at Phichit, his giggles subsiding. “Yeah. One life. Or who knows? Maybe not.” 

Life. The afterlife. Life after life. 

Yuuri took a deep breath and stood. “I’m gonna go head to bed. Thanks for cheering me up Phichit.” 

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Phichit watched him from the floor, gently corralling the tiny rodents on the floor. “Sweet dreams, Yuuri!” 

Yuuri smiled over his shoulder as he stepped into the hallway. “Thanks.”  

Yuuri went straight back to his room and slipped Victor’s ring on his finger for the first time in several days. He felt an intense sense of relief as Victor’s presence washed over him. Yuuri curled his fingers into a fist and brought the ring to his lips, kissing it, murmuring softly. “Please be with me tonight, Victor. I need to see you.” 

* * *

They were on the beach again. Tonight there was a stiff breeze, making little white caps on the waves. Seagulls called and played on the air currents. 

Yuuri could see Victor down the beach. He seemed so far away and paler than usual. He ached to be so far from him. “Victor!” he cried. 

Victor turned, and was immediately running towards him. Yuuri didn’t hesitate to do the same. He could feel the wet, heavy sand under his feet, kicking up as he raced towards the one he’d been longing to see. When they met he threw his arms around Victor’s neck as Victor’s tightened around his back. He held him so tightly that for a moment, Yuuri’s toes left the beach. 

They held one another like lovers reuniting after a long separation. 

“Yuuri, I’ve been thinking,” Victor said at length. 

“Me, too. We need to talk, and... I want to say what I have to say first.” 

Victor leaned back, brows furrowed, but after a moment he nodded. 

Yuuri took a deep breath, sliding his hands into Victor’s, holding them tightly. He looked into Victor’s pale eyes. “I know how to help you cross over.” 

Victor blinked, his brows rising in surprise. “Yuuri-”

“Wait. Let me finish,” Yuuri said, squeezing his hands again. “If it’s what you want, then... I want to help you move on. I want to be strong enough to give that to you.” He swallowed and licked his lips, feeling his heart pound in his chest. 

“But. I want to be honest with myself and with you and tell you that... I don’t want you to go. I know it might be pointless or absurd and who knows what it says about me as a person, but I meant what I said that night. When you were... when we...” The memories made him flush bright red again and he had to look away from Victor’s face, staring instead at their feet in the sand. He squeezed Victor’s hands again for courage. “When I said I loved you. I meant it. And I don’t want to lose you, even though I know it’s so, so selfish.” 

The seagulls cried overhead and the wind plucked at their clothes and hair. The silence that hung between them only made Yuuri’s anxiety grow, and finally he forced himself to look up. 

Victor was staring at him, tears dripping down his face and falling from his long lashes. 

“Victor..” 

“You know that I can’t give you anything, like a living person could.” 

“I don’t care.”

“You say you are selfish to want to keep me here, but isn’t it so much more selfish of me to let you love me? I saw how it hurt you when you could not embrace me. I can barely even speak to you outside of this dream place.” His voice choked a little and his hands tightened around Yuuri’s. “Aren’t I the selfish one, wanting to hear you say that you want to be with me; that you want to love me even though I cannot give you what a living person can give you? I cannot keep you warm at night or share a meal with you or any of those things. Won’t you regret it? Won’t you want someone who can share your life and not just your dreams? Won’t you long for someone you can touch?” 

Yuuri grit his teeth. “You give me so many things no living person could. You... you’re my constant companion. I feel your strength and support all the time. You can be a  _ part _ of me in a way no one else ever could. What we shared... that feeling of skating with you, of being with you, of being  _ one _ with you.” Yuuri shook his head. “You’re the only one I can have that with. And I can’t imagine anything else more wonderful and intimate than that. Yes, I wish I could hold you outside of these dreams, but I don’t need to. But I know that I need you to be with me. I know that I love you, and that it’s preposterous. But that’s the truth.”  

They stared at each other and Yuuri reached up to brush the slowing tears from Victor’s cheeks. “Stay with me, Victor. That’s all I need.” 

They stared at each other for a moment and then Victor looked away suddenly, turning towards the sea. With a sigh he sat down in the sand, still holding onto one of Yuuri’s hands. “This beach reminds me of St. Petersburg.”

Yuuri was surprised by the sudden change in subject, but he just sat down in the sand next to Victor. “It reminds me of Hasetsu. My hometown.” 

There was a pregnant moment and then Victor said suddenly, “Do you believe in fate, Yuuri?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Victor smiled a little. “I think now I believe. I think that you  _ are _ the reason I am still here. But not because you have kept me from finding a way to let go. I believe you are the reason I didn’t go anywhere, because I was meant to be here. Waiting to meet you. To be with you.” 

Yuuri gazed at Victor, his heart aching as it raced. 

Victor leaned in against his side, tilting his head to rest against his. “What if... the universe made a mistake the day I died, because I was meant to be with you. And this...” he gestured to himself and the strange dream world around them, “is the only way it could be fixed.” 

Yuuri looked out at the white capped water, frowning with doubt. “That seems... kind of... fantastical.” 

Victor laughed. “Yuuri! I am a ghost! You are sitting in a dream with me, and we are in love. And you want to tell me that  _ fate _ is too far fetched for you to believe?” 

Yuuri flushed and smiled wryly. “Well, I guess when you put it that way... maybe it’s not so crazy.” He chuckled and then twisted his lips to one side. “So, does that mean that if you hadn’t died you think we’d still have fallen in love?” 

“Absolutely,” Victor nodded decisively, raising his head so he could look at Yuuri. “Think about it. We’re both skaters. I’d only be a few years older than you. We could easily have met many times and fallen in love at any number of occasions. Competitions, banquets, exhibitions.” 

Yuuri smirked and chuckled. “I don’t know. You were already out of my league when you died at nineteen. An older Victor Nikiforov with who knows how many medals and titles under his belt sounds ever  _ more _ out of my league. I have the advantage now, because I just so happen to be the only one who can see and talk to you.” 

Victor furrowed his brows. “Do you really believe that? That I’ve fallen for you only because you are the one who is here?” 

Yuuri smiled a little awkwardly. “Well, not exactly, but, I mean I’m the only one around. You kind of had to pay attention to me. But, if we met in real life... do you really think you’d even notice me with so many other options?”

Victor took Yuuri’s face in his hands. “I know I would. And I would fall absolutely, hopelessly in love with you.” 

Yuuri swallowed and his eyes fluttered closed as Victor drew their faces together and they kissed, a soft, sweet kiss that made his toes curl in the sand. When it was over he let himself just gaze at Victor and bask in the way he gazed back at him. 

“So,” Victor said finally. “What now?” 

“Be mine,” Yuuri murmured. “Stay with me until... until you don’t want to stay with me anymore. And when that day comes... I’ll help you move on.” 

“That day will never come. I’ll be here waiting for you until your last breath.”

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hand. “And when that day comes I won’t be afraid. Then together we can walk hand in hand into whatever comes next.” 

“Mmmm,” Victor hummed thoughtfully. “Heaven? I guess.” 

Yuuri’s eyes twinkled. “Or rebirth.” 

Victor chuckled. “How metaphysical.” His smile softened and he leaned in again, his thumb stroking Yuuri’s chin.  “Are you sure you won’t be tired of me by then?” Victor’s smile was teasing, but the question was earnest.  

“I won’t,” Yuuri said. “This is fate, afterall.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you're new to my work, consider checking out my completed fic [Love in Exile](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9327392), a historical AU set on Sakhalin Island, and my WIP [ Stranger than Fiction](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11804673), a modern AU about writing and the thin line between reality and fantasy.
> 
> **Follow me on tumblr and twitter!**   
>  [martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com](https://martymusesloveinexile.tumblr.com/)   
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